


He is dead but my love is not

by imreallybadatusernames



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Post-Reichenbach, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imreallybadatusernames/pseuds/imreallybadatusernames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the one year anniversary of Sherlock's death, John visits his grave with flowers and a confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He is dead but my love is not

**Author's Note:**

> Found this when I was filesurfing and thought I might upload it. Wrote it a long time ago for my instagram :)

“It’s been a while.” John said. 

The gravestone in front of him was silent, a bit less clean and shiny than the last time he was here. Exactly a year ago, when Sherlock’s death –suicide- had made sensation in the newspapers and chaos in Johns heart.

He felt calmer now, still heartbroken, but calm. The roaring tornado of grief in his heart had turned into a slower burning breeze.

“I’ve missed you. I’m going to miss you forever, I think.”

He looked around once more, making sure he was still alone. The things he was about to say was for Sherlocks ears only. 

“You know, Sherlock, I’ve realized something.” Deep breaths, he wasn’t going to cry today. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think – which I do, even if I’m not a genius. And I realized something.”

He clenched his fists, hard. In one hand he was holding a bouquet of flowers, Monardas. You wouldn’t think Sherlock would take interesting in something as uselessly pretty as flowers, but for some reason he always talked about Monardas. “It’s good for the bees,” he used to say, and then break into a long rant about why bees are integral. 

John almost smiled at the thought.

“I guess there’s no use to keep it inside any longer.”

Deep breaths. 

“I’m in love with you.”

The world didn’t explode. The following seconds were just as ordinary as the ones before, the birds were still chirping with just as much joy. But for john, it felt like the earth had started spinning the other way.

“I’m in love with you, Sherlock Holmes. I still am, and I think I always was. From the very first day I met you. I remember it like it was yesterday. And _I hate it,_ ”  
His voice broke. John fought back the tears, and took a deep breath, but when he started talking again they fell all the same. “ _Hate_ , that you aren’t alive for me to tell you. I hate that it took me so long to realize and I hate that you were pulled away from me so early. Too early. I hate that I didn’t kiss you when I could have.”  
He sighed. “That’s all.”

Thinking about how Sherlock would have lectured him on the various forms of bacteria that could be found on a gravestone, he bent down and gave it the lightest of kisses.

“Bye then,” He whispered, voice not able to carry anything more.

And so he left.

He didn’t know that Sherlock also came to visit for his one year death-anniversary. He didn’t see the tears in his eyes as he ran up to the grave as soon as he was out of sight, almost collapsing, but leaning on his gravestone. He didn’t hear that as Sherlock stared at the flowers, he whispered: “I love you too, John Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated! (No compensation if your heart broke)


End file.
